


A Damn Good Paratrooper

by theonetryingtolive



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Comfort, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Sobel is an ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:40:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24189799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonetryingtolive/pseuds/theonetryingtolive
Summary: “He was over the line.” His voice, deep and rumbling, enveloped you like a blanket. “None of what he said is true.”
Relationships: Bull Randleman/Reader
Kudos: 13





	A Damn Good Paratrooper

It wasn’t unusual for Sobel to scream at every paratrooper under his command. All of them took it like champs, after all, it wasn’t like he actually was screaming at them because of a real reason. The man had no leadership skills, found fault in everything, and couldn’t even remember anyone’s name half the time. Despite knowing this, his latest words had hit too close to home. You were hanging by a thread to your composure, and when you were all finally allowed to go, you high tailed it out of there. 

Denver ‘Bull’ Randleman knew the tension in your shoulders wasn’t the usual kind. It wasn’t caused by you the stress from training, it was a different kind of tension. He didn’t attempt to sneak around, a man his size really couldn’t do that with any effectiveness, so he just followed after you, a frown of concern in his face. You were bracing yourself against a wall behind some barracks. Bull waited patiently for you to turn around. He could tell you’d heard him by the way you tilted your head. Really, he could tell many things just by looking at you. He would recognise you in a crowd, with his eyes closed, in a dark room. 

“He hates me,” you murmured, anger tainting your words. 

He took a moment to look at the tightness of your jaw before he decided to touch you. He placed a hand on your shoulder and you half-turned to look at him. He wasn’t a man used to long speeches or clever words, not like some of the others, and that had often weighted heavy on his chest when he’d been younger. But not now. You didn’t really need clever words at the moment.

You sniffled, and rubbed your eyes. “He said—“

“He was over the line.” His voice, deep and rumbling, enveloped you like a blanket. “None of what he said is true.”

There had been a faulty switch in your father’s studio when you were a kid. When you flicked it, the lights flickered for a few seconds before turning on or off. Now, it felt like you were connected to that switch. Your lips trembled, you blinked fast a few times, and— 

“I’m here.” Bull wrapped his arms around you. “I’m right here. You’re fine, you’re just fine. You’re a damn good paratrooper.”


End file.
